


Monet Refuses the Operation

by KatieDingo



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, F/F, Lesbian Sex, One Night Stands, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieDingo/pseuds/KatieDingo
Summary: “You feel like a bit of salsa?”“Are you talking about the music or the sauce?” Caroline matches Rory’s smirk. Rory laughs and a riot of joy runs across her face.“What would you like it to be, Blondie?”“Blondie! I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that,” she says with a mock huff.“Well high time someone did. On your feet Blondie. We’re dancing.”Caroline from Last Tango in Halifax, with a splash of boldness from Catherine in Happy Valley, has a night in Hebden Bridge. An AU set sometime after S4 of Last Tango in Halifax. Inspired in part by “Monet Refuses the Operation” by Lisel Mueller.





	1. The Continent of Women

**Author's Note:**

> My Caroline is getting confused with all these fabulous Catherines around. Don't murder me in my sleep for it.

His first mistake is to rest his hand on her arse. Caroline turns her head and glares at the man leering at her from behind the bastion of his ill-fitting polyester suit. He reeks of sweat and entitlement, and after a day listening to public schools policy mangled by an ill-prepared man elevated three positions beyond his capabilities, she is not in the mood.

“Take your hand off my arse or I’ll chop your dick off and make you swallow it.” 

Her intentions are as clear as her diction and her voice carries around the bar.

The smug smile slides off his face as what he thought would be a simple proprietary grope of a beautiful blonde turns sour. The sounds of conversation in the retro bar dim, revealing the mellifluous intonations of Sade’s _Smooth Operator,_ a stinging indictment of his gauche attempt at performative masculinity. The gaze of his mates and the crowd upon him, he steps up his game, embarking boldly on his second mistake. 

“I can show you a good time.” He leans in, the whisky on his breath encasing him in a fog of self-righteous self-deception. “You know you want it.”

The disadvantages of wearing high heels and a pencil skirt are now apparent. A loss of options in the kicking and kneeing department leaves Caroline with her hands. Stronger than she looks, she spies his loose pants before grabbing his balls firmly in her left hand, and twisting. A strangled cry falls from his mouth as he buckles. Her right hand around his throat, she pushes him backwards towards his mates, depositing him unceremoniously on the bench seat next to them.

“Oh come on...you know you want it.” She wears a murderous smile. His mates look on, mouths gaping. After a final crushing squeeze she releases him. He crumples.

“Perhaps you might keep your hands to yourself next time.” She turns to leave the flock of polyester pigeons to their games, when the word “ _Cunt_ ” hits her ears. She stops, looks over her shoulder at them, eyebrow raised.

“Well, you know what they say: you are what you eat.” 

With a flick of her blonde hair, Caroline nonchalantly saunters back to the bar, knowing all eyes are upon her. Grateful that her full-bodied red is waiting for her, she drops a tenner on the bar, takes a large swig and turns to face the crowd. 

“Ladies,” she salutes with her glass, looking around for the first time at the witnesses. Every woman in the room is watching with admiration and gratitude, and some with lust. It is the latter that inspires the rest of her evening.

 

—————————————————————————————— 

 _“I will not return to a universe_  
_of objects that don’t know each other,_  
_as if islands were not the lost children_  
_of one great continent.”_

From _“Monet Refuses the Operation”_ by Lisel Mueller, 1996


	2. Restore My Youthful Errors

Caroline stands with her back to the bar, a glass of red in her hand, surveying the scene before her. The blood orange walls add a vivid hue to the mostly pale locals huddling over their drinks, some already swimming their way to oblivion. Others watch, waiting to see what she will do next, this woman audacious enough to put the polyester pigeons back in their cages for the night.

She slowly takes another sip of her wine, feeling the dark fruits of the Barossa Shiraz coat her tongue before sliding easily down her throat. She had come for a drink, wanting to dump the disaster of a day before heading home to Flora, but after a close encounter with entitlement and stale aftershave she needs something else. Her gaze travels around the room, collecting eye contact with the women who love women. She is struck by the beauty of a tall black woman in the corner, a woman with a broad smile and a grace about her. Caroline’s gaze lingers as a change of plans takes form in her mind.

Caroline wants an escape, to run aground for the night before slipping back into the current in the morning. She needs time for herself, and time for pleasure. She smiles, knowing that she may have found someone to explore, someone to taste. She can feel it in the tightening of her cunt. Her mind made up, she puts down the wine and rifles through her bag to find her phone.

“Mum. Hi.”

“Caroline. Where are you?”

“I’m still in Hebden Bridge. Would you look after Flora until morning for me?”

“Yes. Why? Are you stopping? Has something happened?”

“No, no. A change of plans. I’m having a drink and I’ll stay the night."

“Oh. Where will you be?”

“No idea. I’ll work it out later.”

She could imagine the moue on her mother’s face as the words sour. “Are you having a mucky night?”

“Yep. With any luck. I’ll be back early. What time do you need me to be home?”

Celia sighed. “Well, Alan and I are planning on leaving for the organic market at 10am.”

“Fine. I’ll see you before then.”

There is a pause, and Caroline can almost hear the effort her mum is making. “Well, be safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks Mum. See you then. Bye. Bye bye.”

Finishing the call, duty now dealt with for the evening, the night is hers. The weight lifts from her shoulders and she tosses her hair with the lightness of freedom that comes with her decision to stay. She drains the last of the wine, waves to the bartender and orders a fresh glass, knowing she is abandoning the Jeep for the night.

As the bartender passes the Shiraz across the aged wood of the bar, Caroline feels a looming presence next to her. She turns to find herself dwarfed by an Amazon. This women is well over six feet tall and has broad shoulders to match her height. It’s the woman from the corner table. Caroline’s eyes slide down the woman’s dark arms, musculature on display in the warmth of the summer evening. As her gaze follows the sinewy path down the woman’s forearms, she finds surprisingly long and elegant fingers, culminating with short-cropped nails, each one painted a different colour. When she looks up, she is pinned by dark irises focusing intently on hers.

“That was quite a show you put on earlier. Well done.” The voice was deep, honeyed.

“Thank you. It needed doing.”

“It was a joy to watch. Best entertainment I’ve seen in here for ages.”

“Do you come here often?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Caroline winces. If she is going to pick up, she needs to do better than this. She chuckles.

The woman’s lips curl into a knowing smile. “If that’s what you need.”

Caroline’s sharp intake of breath matches the rise of her eyebrows under her fringe.

“And what do _you_ need?” Caroline volleys back.

“Probably the same thing as you.” The woman smirks, then holds out her hand, “I’m Rory.”

Caroline takes the offered hand. “Caroline.” Rory’s skin is warm and rough, and the energy of it tingles along her palm. She holds on, relishing the touch while she gazes into the dark eyes not far from hers. There is something here; she can feel it — the intangible connection that is more than pheromones.

It is Rory who moves first, unwrapping her large hand from around Caroline’s and turning to face the rest of the room.

“Are you waiting for someone? Would you like to join us, or would you prefer we left you in peace?”

Caroline looks into the corner Rory had come from, seeing the group of women engaging in a loud debate followed by a flurry of laughter. She turns back to the woman beside her, glancing down before raising her gaze, leaving no detail uncatalogued from the polished, steel-capped boots and the clean blue jeans to the sleeveless cotton shirt.

Rory smirks. “Like what you see?” There is a glint in her eye, not at all unhappy that Caroline has been checking her out, as it has given Rory an opportunity to take a visual detour of her own down Caroline’s sumptuous cleavage.

“I’m sorry. I’m very out of practice. It’s been a while,” Caroline admits, a little embarrassed. She takes in a deep breath, gathering her confidence and daring herself to be bold with this stranger. “I do like what I see, actually. You’re very...beautiful.” She nearly says handsome. It fits as a compliment, despite there being nothing overtly masculine about Rory. She is definitely all woman, and a strikingly beautiful one at that. There is perhaps something athletic about the way Rory carries herself that leads Caroline to think handsome might be a closer fit.

“Thank you.” Rory leans down to Caroline, suddenly more intimate. “So are you.”

Caroline is going to brush off the compliment, but the intense gaze of the the woman delivering it holds her in check. What follows is a brief and silent exchange of information, a moment between the two of them as they reach into their souls to make a decision about the rest of the night.

“Would you like to join our little group? They’re fun, and kind.” Laughter rings out from the table in the corner. “We’re playing Fuck/Marry/Kill at the moment.” Rory waits a moment or two for a response but none is forthcoming. She hopes the pause means that a more secluded evening might be preferable to the stunning blonde next to her. “Or would you rather we have a quiet dinner? I know a nice little wine bar around the corner that will serve a decent meal to go with the red you’re drinking.”

Caroline considers her options. Keeping it light and playing with Rory’s group of friends could be entertaining. She would normally relish the chance to talk with women who love women, to feel at home amongst strangers simply because she doesn’t need to explain her desires or justify her differences, but tonight she is drawn to this woman who is making her blood flow sharply in her veins. She’s neither Kate nor Olga, but Rory is beautiful and certainly confident. There is also a tangible sense of something more complex and more challenging lying just under the skin. Time in this woman’s company is the more interesting, and less safe option. Tonight is all about escaping the enervating predictability and responsibility of her life.

Caroline gestures that she’ll follow Rory out the door, ready for the match ahead. _“Lay on, McDuff.”_

Rory stands still, appraising Caroline.

_“And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'”_

Caroline blinks, never having heard anyone quote the rest of the challenge by MacBeth. The smile transforms her face and her eyes find Rory’s. This really is going to be an interesting evening.

  

 

* * *

 

It is the line she hates most. _Tell me about yourself_. How the hell do you answer that, she thinks. No matter what I say I’ll come across as a shallow, snotty twat. She looks around the large, modern wine bar, already full of punters in for a drink and a meal. She drops her gaze into the rich red liquid of the Shiraz, begging for inspiration to crawl slack-jawed across her brain. She sits up straight and draws in a deep breath, all the better to deliver her life in a digestible package.

“I’m 48. I live with my youngest, my mum and her new husband. I’m single, I have one son at Oxford and one who barely speaks to me. He’s doing his A2s and lives with his dad. I run a school and I’ve spent the day at one of the most tedious conferences I’ve ever had the misfortune to attend.”

Rory is captivated. This is no rambling, shambolic affair; this is organised and succinct, and perhaps more telling than Caroline means it to be.

“Why doesn’t he speak to you?”

“It’s complicated. That’s enough about me. Tell me about you.”

Rory laughs. Clearly it is going to be a challenge getting more information out of the uptight blonde in front of her. Matching her style, Rory supplies her own story.

“I’m 44, also single, I live on a narrowboat and I travel around fixing narrowboats for a living. It gives me enough money to live, and I get to meet people and see the country."

“Why narrowboats?”

“Don’t know really. It was a part time job while I was at uni and then I realised that a degree in English Literature wasn’t going to give me a life so much as a sentence, so I focused on carpentry.” She pauses for a moment. “What is it about running a school that you like?”

Caroline is a bit surprised at this. No one has ever been interested enough to ask. “I like the challenge of it actually. I’m a research chemist by training, but I’m fascinated by how changing education policy can influence outcomes for students. Nothing beats a brilliant teacher, but I can influence how well they do their jobs.” She sighs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get heavy. I’m genuinely interested. How did you get into it?"

“Oh, the usual. Teacher, then Head of Department, and being organised and making decisions at work comes easily, so...” She takes another sip of the Shiraz. “Why English Literature?”

“Keats. And the Brontes, of course. Then I found some of the more modern women writers like Stein, Woolf and Katherine Mansfield, who are all great. But I will admit, it wasn’t until I found Daphne du Maurier and her gothic seductions that I was completely hooked.”

“Du Maurier? I love her short stories. So often she'd unveil a twist in the last paragraph and I’d have to re-read the entire story. She was a revelation when I was a teenager and I loved _The House on the Strand_.”

“Really? Take a drug and shift back in time? I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic, Caroline.”

Caroline laughs. “It’s a well-kept secret, I will admit.” She grows quiet, remembering some of the romantic evenings she had with Kate, none of which seemed to happen with Olga. She shakes her head to free the memories loose. “I liked the idea that it would be possible to live two lives, one freer than the other and being able to choose when you crossed the line.” She chuckles. “Of course, the character died in the end. It inevitably had to catch up with him, that distortion of reality.”

Rory nods. “Yeah. It always does in novels, something about killing all the kind characters and leaving us the cranky ones.” She laughs ruefully.

“So what was it about du Maurier’s work that captured you?” Caroline asks, wondering if Rory’s answer might be as unintentionally revealing as her own.

Rory sits forward in her chair, clearly getting into the discussion about one of her favourite authors, a pleasure she doesn’t often experience.

“I was fascinated with du Maurier’s idea of the twin sides of character, the light and the dark. She called them doubles and played with them a lot in her work.” Rory’s hands fly through the air as she talks, a visual flurry to describe the ideas passing between them. “My obsession for a while was _The Scapegoat,_ about the doppelgängers who meet in a public bathroom and swapped lives. She thought we were all doubles, so housed both sides of the same coin and it wasn’t until we reconciled these that we could become a more balanced individual.”

After being momentarily mesmerised by the graceful movement of Rory’s hands, Caroline is starting to wonder if this is heading into more dangerous territory than she is willing to handle and her eyes narrow a fraction.

“Do you feel you have two sides?” she asks a little suspiciously.

“Oh yeah, I think we all do. Actually, for me it went deeper than just light and dark. Du Maurier’s work also explored masculine and feminine in many ways, and I was intrigued by it, knowing that she was a lesbian having to hide her sexuality too. I’m sure it influenced her writing, having to reign in her natural inclination to be adventurous and bold due to social constraints.”

Caroline is captivated. “So what intrigues you about that?”

Rory gently rotates her glass of stout, wondering how to phrase it, how much to reveal. She looks Caroline in the eye, deciding to be brave.

“I was so tall and athletic that I was considered a bit of a freak at school, as you can imagine. I was often called ‘boy’ so I began to wonder if I was supposed to be one. I mean, I never liked the stuff I was supposed to like as a girl: sewing and cooking and cleaning. Bored me rigid. I wanted to build things and take them apart and see how they worked.”

Caroline laughs. “I _constantly_ wanted to pull things apart to see how the world fitted together.”

She catches Rory’s eye as they share an understanding of how the expectations of gender conformity made them aliens in their own childhoods. Their eye contact gradually changes to reveal the intensity of desire bubbling under the surface, broken only when they both look away. Caroline swallows loudly and Rory clears her throat.

Rory sits back in her chair and takes a large breath before continuing. “I did eventually work out that I’m a standard-issue sporty dyke, but du Maurier and Woolf and Patricia Highsmith and Jane Rule all helped. There wasn’t much about for us at the time, and nothing about being black and lesbian. It was only later that I found Barbara Smith and Audre Lord, before all the gems like Roxane Gay appeared.”

Caroline nods, remembering the feeling of complete isolation when she was young, like she was the only one on the planet who felt like that. She had heard from Kate how much harder it was for black lesbians at the time.

The waiter interrupts and deposits their plates on the table, pulling an oversized pepper mill from his back pocket. He sprays pepper all over Rory’s steak with an exaggerated flourish, giving Caroline time to observe the woman he is serving. Rory is big and although she is neat, she fills the space with her vitality. Caroline gets the impression that even her generosity will be large. She wonders how that generosity translates into action, and what Rory might be like in bed. Caroline looks again at the size of Rory’s fingers and squirms a little in her seat.

They start their meals and by unspoken arrangement, the conversation pauses. The momentary quiet allows them both a little time for reflection, their shared notions settling gently in a bubble around them, a dimension held between the conscious and sub-conscious, conflating their singular experiences into a combined story of lesbians of their generation.

After a few minutes, Rory gently pricks the bubble, dropping them back into the wine bar and the present.

“Tell me about your youngest?”

“Flora? She’s two and a half and full of energy and the wonder of it all — when she’s not throwing a tantrum.” Caroline chuckles. She wonders how much detail to add here, and the quandary shows on her face. She senses that talking about Kate right now will kill the mood. No one ever knows how to deal with it, even years after the fact.

Rory understands people well enough to be patient, and waits for Caroline to choose what to share. When Caroline doesn’t elaborate, Rory decides to change the mood. It helps that the band has started their set and the Latin music has a sensual flavour that encourages play. She looks encouragingly at the blonde sitting opposite her, a sly grin on her face.

“You feel like a bit of salsa?”

Caroline raises an eyebrow, relieved she doesn’t have to explain Flora right now. “Are you talking about the music or the sauce?”

Rory laughs and a riot of joy runs across her face. “What would you like it to be, Blondie?”

“Blondie! I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that,” she says with a mock huff.

“Well high time someone did. On your feet Blondie. We’re dancing.”

Rory stands and drops her napkin on her plate. She holds out her hand to Caroline, huge grin on her face, waiting.

Rory’s joy is infectious and Caroline chuckles.

“Twat,” she grumbles happily. Caroline catches Rory’s eye, a smile flourishing on her face. She drops her napkin on the table and stands, accepting Rory’s hand.

They walk onto the dance floor and stand in front of each other. They have that inevitably awkward moment of working out who is going to lead, and who is willing to be led, as hands and arms and bodies jostle for position like rugby players entering a scrum. Rory drops her arms and stands still.

“You know how to salsa?” Rory asks.

“Not really. Why?”

“Well, how about letting me lead this time.” Rory knows exactly what’s going on. She smirks. “I promise to let you lead later, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Caroline chokes, a little embarrassed at being so obvious. A flush creeps up her neck as the possibilities for later flash through her mind. “Okay. After you.”

Rory holds out her arms again, and this time Caroline steps into them. A frisson of energy passes between them, a knowledge that all their interaction thus far has led them to this and the possibilities of the night lie before them. Caroline eases into Rory’s embrace as they start to move and sway to the lyrical mood of the music. Caroline’s skirt rides up her thighs a little as they move, giving her room to step, to follow Rory’s lead. They find their own rhythm as the songs progress, starting to flow easily together as they grow accustomed to the physical form and movement of the other.

Following the contours of Caroline’s body, Rory lets her hands wander seductively, provocatively getting close to several erogenous zones without ever actually touching them. It’s the tease of someone who knows her way around a woman’s body. Caroline wonders if she has found herself in the arms of a modern-day lothario, but perhaps that could be to her advantage. Finding herself with someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t expecting a long term relationship would suit her well tonight... and then the chemist in her head goes through a panoply of possible infections. Suddenly the evening is not so rosy, but tinted hospital-blue with the ever practical thought of antibiotics and getting tested for STDs. _Good god,_ she castigates herself, her mind sabotaging every possibility for pleasure. She shakes her head, refusing to coddle her ever-present fears. She deploys mental flack by deliberately running one of her hands sensuously over the arse of the hot woman building a rhythm with her, pulling their hips even closer until her mind is overwhelmed with scent and touch and the possibilities for more. 

Rory responds with a soft groan. She drops her head to land soft kisses down Caroline’s neck, causing Caroline to close her eyes, focusing on the enticing touch of those lips and tongue. She lifts her hand to comb through Rory’s short hair, the lush growth and springy curls reminding her of Kate. A brief moment of panic shoots through her until she is once again seduced by Rory’s spicy scent and their hips and thighs moving in sync around the dance floor.

Hands glide underneath Caroline’s jacket while Rory kisses along her jaw, finally reaching her lips. The taste of Rory’s soft lips playfully enthrall, lulling Caroline into a kiss that she can feel all the way to her toes. She’s not sure if it is seduction masquerading as dancing that they’re doing, but it is morphing into a barely acceptable public prelude to sex. There is no mistaking the aroused gasp that escapes her lips as Rory’s long fingers reach into her hair at the same time as a hand grips her arse, pulling her tightly against a strong thigh and stopping all pretense of a dance. After a moment, conscious awareness of their surroundings pulls her from bliss, pushing Rory away as she leans back.

“Stop. Stop.” Caroline swallows hard. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Sorry.” Rory is looking lost, almost bereft from the loss of contact. “It’s hard to stop.” Her gaze drops to Caroline’s lips for a moment before reaching her eyes again. “I find you completely intoxicating.”

They look at each other, wondering if it is time to take that next step and leave the relative safety of the public space. The potential of their connection lies in wait, huddling just over the horizon, preparing for ambush. They can both feel it, and for a second or two, they pause. This is the moment they can change their minds, alter their trajectories to pass quietly by, or navigate directly towards the impending collision of two bodies in space.

No decision is voiced yet their actions speak clearly. Caroline leads Rory to their table and they drop enough money to cover the tab while Caroline picks up her handbag. They quickly head for the exit and walk onto the street where the long twilight of summer is yielding to the pressing night.

There is something desperate about their need as Caroline is pulled into the first empty alley they come across. Full of heat from their dance, Rory pushes Caroline roughly up against the wall as soon as they pass the large industrial bins they can use as cover, their breathing already ragged. Caroline pulls Rory to her, their mouths clashing as their hands desperately explore. Rory has one hand firmly on a breast, and the other is snaking up Caroline’s leg, lifting it slightly to give her thigh access to Caroline’s clit. She pushes into Caroline, drawing a deep moan from her.

“Oh god. Not here,” she gasps. She grinds her clit into Rory’s hard thigh, not willing to give up the exhilarating pleasure just yet. “How far is your boat?” She reaches up to run her fingers into Rory’s hair, pulling her into a deep kiss, full of heat still percolating from their dance.

Rory captures Caroline’s tongue and obliterates the last remnants of her capacity for language. Caroline is dimly aware that her body is well ahead of her brain, but she misses the moment her pre-frontal cortex capitulates, swamped by the chemical overload of pheromones and endorphins driving her to fuck. Caroline wraps her leg around Rory’s and starts to ride it. It feels so good, the pressure on her cunt, the twisting of her nipple, the thrill of this woman dominating her mouth. She loses herself, submerged in the storm surging through her body, hanging onto Rory like she is a life raft.

The explosive sound of a car backfiring in the distance snaps her out of it. Shocked at herself she pushes Rory away, gasping for air.

“Christ!” She stumbles down the alley, needing some distance from the centre of the storm. She leans heavily against the wall, closing her eyes in the effort to collect the pieces of her mind scattered about her subconscious.

“You nearly had me shagging in an alley! I could lose my job for this. You are...dangerous!” She is astounded. Never before has she lost control like this in public. “Shit!”

“You’re driving me wild,” Rory pants, trying to regain her breath. Hands on her hips, she moves towards Caroline, who backs away down the alley.

“Don’t,” Caroline warns. She starts pacing, nerves and arousal and breathlessness all driving her to keep moving. “I can’t be near you until I calm down.” She knows she is too close to the edge, the last fibre of her self-control threatening to tear with the close proximity of this woman who threatens to capsize her.

Rory stops, watching this tigress stalking around the alley, threatening to launch an attack at any moment. She doesn’t quite know what to do to diffuse the situation; doesn’t quite know that she wants to. The possibilities of danger, of getting caught, of being seen are so arousing. Her mouth is dry, her nipples are painfully hard and she feels like she has a flood in her pants. She’s trying to control herself but her need for Caroline surpasses everything else. Her entire existence has become about having this woman.

“Walk with me. My boat isn’t far, only five minutes away. Walk with me.” She watches as Caroline takes that in, stopping to slump against the wall.

Caroline can’t believe she’s let it come to this. She looks skyward, hunting for some relief from the sharpness of her desire, finding none. She closes her eyes, getting her breathing and her lust under control, letting herself accept that tonight, this is who she is. Her desire is still vibrating just under the surface, but at least she now feels like she has it on a leash. She turns to look at the Amazon waiting expectantly for her. She peels herself off the wall, stands up straight and walks slowly towards Rory.

“Thank you. I just couldn’t trust myself for a moment there.” Caroline breathes out heavily. She reaches out and takes Rory’s hand, entwining their fingers, enjoying the roughness of Rory’s fingers on her skin. “Take me home.”

Rory slowly leans towards Caroline, pauses, and softly kisses her on the lips. “With my utmost pleasure, Blondie.”

A soft smile lights up Caroline’s face. They set off at a deliberately gentle pace, enjoying the still warm air just after the fall of the sun and before the rise of the moon, letting the quiet of the night calm them after the firestorm in the alley. Walking over the old stone bridge to get onto the island squeezed between the River Calder and the Rochdale Canal, they pass the late blooming wisteria as it blends into the brickwork in the faded dark. The only sounds are their shoes on the dirt of the tow path, a slender ribbon alongside the inky black canal, the temptation of their darker desires only a minor deviation from their current trajectory.

 

————————————————————————--------------  
_“and now you want to restore_  
_my youthful errors: fixed_  
_notions of top and bottom,_  
_the illusion of three-dimensional space,_  
_wisteria separate_  
_from the bridge it covers.”_  
  
From _“Monet Refuses the Operation”_ by Lisel Mueller, 1996

 

 _“Lay on, McDuff,_  
_And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'”_  
  
From _“MacBeth”_ Act 5, Scene 8, by William Shakespeare, 1606

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the thoughtful feedback from my fabulous beta readers, AllMyKindsOfThings and Anon. As always, the work is improved with your generous input. Thank you.


	3. Gas Lamps as Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely NSFW.

“Here she is,” Rory announces as they walk towards a black-hulled narrow boat tethered to the side of the canal. “My _Madeleine_.”

Caroline can see the name painted carefully in block lettering near what she presumes is the smaller text of the registration HV-BN45. She is a well cared for boat — that much is obvious, even in the dark. Caroline steps carefully onto the deck, aware that wood and stilettos are not a good match but unwilling to lose three inches of height just yet.

Rory pulls a key from her pocket and unlocks the narrow doors into the cabin, switching on the soft lights to reveal one long room comprising a compact kitchen, dining area and lounge. Rory gestures for Caroline to step down into her home, thankful that she had left it tidy.

Caroline enters the kitchen and looks around the neat space. The beautifully designed cabinetry mark this as a boat built with great care and precision, which doesn’t surprise Caroline after spending even a few hours with Rory. She runs a hand over the sleek, black stone of the kitchen bench top, the lifeless cold of it so different to the warm skin she is aching to feel under her fingers. She walks through to the lounge and drops her handbag on one of the chairs. There the rich grains of wood blend with different textures as the dim lights glow softly along the walls, playing tricks, issuing a mood reminiscent of the gas lamps that lined the streets and canals a hundred years ago.

Rory closes the doors behind her, sealing them into the private space. Their consciously restrained walk from the alley hasn’t dampened Caroline’s urgent need to feel Rory’s hands on her body. Instead it has sharpened her hunger so that her blood feels thick with craving. Her desire finally unleashed, she looks at Rory with such intensity that Rory stops breathing. Caroline strides towards her, slides a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her into a fierce kiss. In a second Rory is lost again, drowning in this blonde woman who corrodes her bearings.

Caroline arches into her, pushing Rory backwards into the cupboards. They canyon around the kitchen benches, each hit bruising as they grab at one another, grasping at the possibilities of fingers, lips, teeth and tongue in their desperation to get instantly close. Tugging at clothing as they scrabble for skin, Rory finally lifts Caroline onto the bench in the kitchen, drawing the stocking-clad legs around her.

The frustration of waiting so long erupts. Now she has Caroline trapped, Rory bites into her neck, causing Caroline to cry out and claw her short fingernails into Rory’s back. Rory hisses and lurches forward into Caroline, one hand around the back of her head, pulling her into kiss that is raw and hungry. Her other hand slides along Caroline’s leg, under the skirt hitched up high around Caroline’s thighs, reaching past the top of the stockings for the moist heat she knows is there. She moans when she finds the wetness soaking through Caroline’s knickers, pressing the fabric into the soft flesh that thrusts forward, seeking more.

“I want you inside. Fuck me,” Caroline gasps, long past any desire for foreplay.

Rory pulls Caroline’s knickers to the side and slowly enters her, understanding the honour of the invitation, sighing with the feeling of being home. Caroline arches her back, rocking her hips as Rory starts to move inside her. Rory lifts her off the bench with a strong arm around her, giving Caroline the freedom to find her own rhythm while she rides Rory’s hand. Caroline grips Rory’s hips with her thighs, ecstasy driving her faster. She captures Rory’s mouth again, messy in her movements as she rides Rory’s fingers, finally finding the erotic rhythm that started on the dance floor. It’s been months since she’s been able to let go of the responsibilities that anchor her into her life. Now, for this moment, she can let it all go and simply be. She holds on to Rory, hips driving a primal rhythm, lost in the sensations that engulf her. Unable to contain the strong contractions of her body, she comes with a roar. She clings to Rory, cheek to cheek, while her body recovers, grateful for the strong arm that holds her tight. Still breathless, Caroline turns her head to kiss Rory tenderly on the side of her face.

Rory gently pulls her fingers out of Caroline, a sigh following the sense of loss as she does. Muscles burning, she carefully lowers Caroline to the floor, careful not to touch her clothes with the hand still dripping. She brings her fingers to her mouth, tasting Caroline for the first time. Her eyelids close, the taste of Caroline so intimate that it’s like she is re-experiencing Caroline coming. Caroline’s eyes are glued to Rory and her fingers, finding it very erotic watching Rory suck her long fingers clean. All she can think about is touching Rory, tasting her. Her mouth is suddenly dry.

“Bed. Where’s your bed?”

Rory nods past the lounge. “In the bow.”

Caroline grabs Rory’s wrist and leads her towards the front of the boat, past the lounge, past the small bathroom, and into the bedroom with the double bed. She kicks off her stilettos and flings her jacket onto a chair, quickly following with her skirt, stay-up stockings and her sodden knickers. Rory has managed to get out of her boots, socks and jeans but is stopped by Caroline before she gets any further.

“I want to do the rest.” She looks lustfully at Rory, thinking of the pleasure she’ll have as she runs her hands under Rory’s shirt, up her belly and over her breasts. “Let me explore.” She reaches up to kiss Rory’s throat with open-mouthed kisses, drawing a moan from the tall woman.

Caroline slowly unbuttons Rory’s shirt, aware that there is a cruelty in the delay, knowing that Rory must be as desperate to come as she was when they got on the boat.

“Can you handle this?” She slides the shirt off the statuesque shoulders, down the muscular arms and drops the shirt on the floor next to her skirt.

Rory is already breathing quite heavily. “I need to come, but I like this too.”

Caroline nods. “Give me a little leeway; I’ll get you there, I promise.” A smile rises up her face as her fingers run over Rory’s abdomen, teasing with the softness of the touch, drawing a quiver from Rory. She reaches around Rory’s wide ribcage and unclasps her bra, revelling in the weight of the breasts that hang high on the dark brown chest. She moans as she takes a nipple into her mouth, delighting in the hiss from Rory as the woman arches into her.

Caroline quietly asks, “What do you like?” before tracking her way up the soft skin with her lips to nibble Rory’s neck.

Rory is starting to have trouble forming consecutive thoughts. She manages a shaky, “Your mouth. On me.”

Caroline smiles knowingly. She runs her hands over Rory’s round arse, sensing the muscles tighten before sliding her fingers temptingly underneath Rory’s jocks and pushing them towards the floor. Feeling her way between Rory’s legs, Caroline finds the wetness she is seeking. Rory gasps and drops her head onto Caroline’s shoulder, her breathing ragged. Sensing that Rory is ripe for verbal foreplay, Caroline whispers into her ear.

“I want you on the bed...with your legs spread so I can see you, see how wet you are for me. See how much you want me to lick you, suck you, fuck you, until you come in my mouth.”

Rory’s legs buckle a little and she grabs hold of Caroline’s shoulders for stability. She is now panting openly, staring at Caroline, shockingly aroused by the words whispered with such clear diction and filthy intention.

Caroline lifts an eyebrow. “Is that something you’d like?” she asks quietly, slowly moving her fingers through Rory’s wetness.

Rory moans and nearly falls onto the bed, flipping over to expose herself to this goddess with the silver tongue. She slowly spreads her legs, revealing herself to Caroline, who drops to her knees as if in prayer.

“You are incredibly beautiful.” She runs her hands up Rory’s long legs, reaching past the wetness that has soaked its way down Rory’s thighs during the long night of foreplay. Caroline moves catlike up Rory’s body, kissing her way up to Rory’s mouth, carefully avoiding Rory’s most sensitive areas.

“God woman. You are killing me,” Rory gasps. “This is torture.”

“Really? I can make it last even longer if you wish.” Caroline smiles slyly, fully aware of what she is doing to Rory. “You could always beg,” she offers.

“Shit no! I’m not begging anyone.”

_“And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'”_

Rory writhes and groans, her need to come too pressing for wordplay.

Caroline grins wickedly, conscious that she’s probably pushed Rory far enough but savouring the crisp power of it. She lowers her head, slowly drawing wet kisses down Rory’s neck and chest, reaching a nipple again. She gently bites the nipple and Rory’s hips jerk off the bed. Caroline continues licking her way down Rory’s body and settles in between her legs. Finally releasing Rory from the teasing, Caroline buries her tongue in Rory’s cunt, the taste just as exquisite as she had imagined. After such a prolonged buildup, it isn’t long before Rory crests the wave of her desire, heels digging into the bed, toes curling and body arching as she comes undone in Caroline’s mouth.

Caroline kisses her way up Rory’s body again, and falls heavily beside her on the bed, one hand resting on the ribs still heaving next to her.

“Holy shit, Blondie. You are a ride,” Rory gasps, still catching her breath.

“So I’ve been told. I like you too.”

“You’re _really_ good at that.”

Caroline smiles to herself. “Glad I haven’t lost my touch.” She picks up one of Rory’s hands and caresses it, noticing the long, strong fingers and not at all surprised she had come so hard earlier. She wonders if Rory could be persuaded to do that again.

Rory stretches an arm and wraps it around Caroline, pulling them together. Caroline rests her head on Rory’s shoulder, running her hand over the glowing skin in front of her. She traces a path with her fingers around Rory’s contours, following the lines of her breasts and areolae, up to her collarbone and down her arm to her fingers. The mapping of skin is such a big part of how she navigates a body that Caroline isn’t even aware that she’s mentally documenting the evidence of a life lived.

“How did you get this one,” she asks, gently running the tips of her fingers over a scar on Rory’s arm.

“Working on a narrowboat. The clamp slipped and I was caught by the edge of the beam. I learned to secure it better after that.”

“And this one?”

Rory lifts her hand, looking at the long scar across the back of it. “Bicycle. I hit a rock at a bad angle and stacked. I was pelting down a hill. It was nasty at the time but kids heal quickly.”

Rory turns to look more closely at Caroline.

“Why do you still have your shirt on? Are you cold? I could get a blanket if you like.”

“The way you just changed the subject then was so subtle I barely noticed.”

Rory laughed, a warm throaty sound. “True, but why are you still wearing your shirt?”

“Because I didn’t want to waste time taking it off.”

Caroline rolls onto Rory, lifting herself up with her arms as she drops a thigh between Rory’s legs. Rory groans as the pressure on her still-engorged clit is so instantly arousing.

“I had better things to do, like get you off, if I remember correctly. Want me to take my shirt off now, or would you rather I fuck you?”

Caroline moves her body, subtly working her thigh into Rory’s cunt in a slow rhythm designed to inflame. She lands a kiss that starts as gentle exploration and finishes as pure hunger to match the growing intensity of their rhythm.

Rory raises a leg and finds the heat between Caroline’s legs, drawing a gasp from Caroline. Rory’s hands move down Caroline’s shirt, quickly unbuttoning the remaining clothing between them, aching to feel Caroline’s breasts in her mouth. She undoes the clasp of Caroline’s bra and rolls Caroline onto her back, wrestling to extract the fabric entangling the beautiful breasts she has been lusting for all night.

“No chance you’re hiding these again, Blondie.” Rory flexes her back so she maintains the pressure on Caroline’s cunt and lowers her mouth to one of Caroline’s erect nipples.

Caroline arches into her, loving the sensations charging around her body. Her hands caress Rory’s body, one hand massaging a breast and the other heading south into the wetness between them. Rory groans and their arousal becomes slick as their movements become more frantic. Fast and passionate, their fucking has them sweating and saturated with pheromones, hands blindly following the contours of skin to find valleys wet with need. They come quickly, rocking together in a frenzy until they collapse, skin and sweat melding as they connect in this most primal of ways.

After a few minutes, Rory pushes herself off Caroline and sits up, finding the top sheet and a blanket, and drags them over their cooling bodies. She snuggles next to Caroline, draping her arm under Caroline’s breasts and entwining their legs, shifting gently until they are spooning and comfortable.

“Don’t want you getting cold.” She nudges Caroline’s cheek with her nose before leaving the soft imprint of her lips there.

“Mmmm,” is all that Caroline manages, already slipping into slumber. Rory kisses her cheek again before sighing with happiness and settling into the safety of her dreams.

 

* * *

 

The low-level chugging of a diesel engine wakes Caroline as a boat slips quietly past them in the canal, gently rocking the narrowboat and the bed. Caroline is briefly lost, in a silent panic as she looks around the room, hunting for something familiar to anchor herself in time and space. It isn’t until she sees her shirt, flung haphazardly over a chair that she remembers. Rory. Gorgeous. Dancing. Narrowboat. Then she remembers the feeling of Rory inside her. Her eyes close again and her lips part, the memory held within her body as a delicious ache between her thighs.

She remembers all of it: the taste, the textures, the scents. Unconsciously she licks her lips, savouring it all. God she has missed this. She’s waited far too long for this.

Caroline turns her head to examine Rory as she sleeps, tranquil while her face is at rest. Her springy black hair surrounds her head like a halo, outlining the thick eyebrows and fine nose which lead to a sensual mouth and lips she would never tire of kissing. Resisting the temptation to wake her and start it all again, Caroline watches. While tracing Rory’s skin with her eyes, Caroline instinctively compares the new lover with her past lovers, cataloguing them all.

Rory is bigger and broader than Kate, in every way. Kate was musical and lyrical and that bled into everything she did as it added lightness to her movements and her thoughts. Her love was rooted in family, in that practical ideal of raising children and creating a safe place for the people she loved. Caroline understood the obsession that drove Kate to jettison everything, even Caroline, for a chance to have a child. Flora was the result, but it hadn’t made Caroline feel any less secondary at the time.

Olga is still trying to find her place in the world. Disconnected from her heritage by parents disconnected from theirs, she is a modern-day hippie in some ways, looking for free love but not intellectually rigorous enough to explore what that actually means. She hopes Olga will work it out one day and avoid the pretence of monogamy, which clearly doesn’t suit.

John is still a child, looking for someone to parent him. She feels sorry for him now that she no longer is responsible for cleaning up after him. They’ll always be connected by their marriage and the boys, but there is enough distance to feel safe from the repercussions of his mess.

And Rory. She’s not sure where Rory fits into this. Different, that’s for sure. Confident, smart, thoughtful; all good things. And she is larger and stronger than anyone she’s ever been with but retains a gentleness which is required to counterbalance such strength. However, there is also a darker complexity underneath; Caroline can sense it. Perhaps it’s the need to keep moving that makes Caroline wonder if Rory is running from something. She’ll probably never know.

She has the urge to touch Rory, to make sure this being is real and not a fiction. Too many times she has seen Kate over the last few years and has been sure she was there, her heart bursting with love only to be rocked again when Kate disappeared into another dimension. She lifts a hand to gently stroke the dark skin next to hers with feather-light fingertips, the body real and her sanity confirmed. She sighs softly.

Rory stirs, the light touch enough to rouse her from shallow sleep as she lies next to a strange body in her bed. She stretches her long legs and turns to Caroline, still only half awake, nestling into the warmth in the early morning hours. Caroline waits for the arm sliding across her ribs to settle before running her fingers along the contours of muscle and bone, savouring the pleasure.

“Hello,” Rory mumbles from that space between wake and sleep, making an effort with the new being in her bed. She smiles to herself, remembering the evening and the scents still so close. She squeezes gently, enjoying the feeling of the warm body beside her.

“Hello.” Caroline turns her head to lightly kiss the forehead within reach.

“Last night was fun.”

“It was. It’s been a long time since I’ve danced with someone. And I’ve never danced the salsa before.”

“Mmmm. You picked it up quickly. And you are very sexy in that Head Teacher look you have going on Blondie. Very hot.”

Caroline chuckles. “Thank you. I do like the tidy trades person thing you do. Very butch and yes, very hot.”

Rory lifts her head off Caroline’s shoulder. She reaches to kiss her softly on the lips. “So, how are you? You okay?” It felt timely to check in, to make sure the woman in her arms was okay.

Caroline looks at Rory, eyes softly connecting in the quiet of the night. “I feel better than I have for a while. I like being here, with you.” Her fingers trace the edge of Rory’s jaw before caressing her face. “And you? Are you okay?”

Rory nods. “I am. I’m more than okay. I’m having a lovely time with you.” She kisses Caroline softly, her lips and tongue gently exploring, tasting. It is a while before she lifts her head to look Caroline in the eyes and ask, “Tell me something about you, Caroline.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know...tell me something that no one else knows.”

Caroline has no idea how to answer that. She thinks about the start of the evening and the decision she made that led to this. “I love my life but there are times I feel trapped by it too. Tonight, this, has been a godsend.”

“I’m glad. It’s been wonderful for me too.” Rory paused, wanting to know more but not sure how far to push it. “What’s making you feel trapped, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Caroline sighs. “I feel deeply rooted in the lives of others and I love that. I love being an integral part in their lives, but the corollary is that I get trapped by it, so busy _doing_ for them that I never feel free to just _be_.”

“Ah, that can be tough. Can you find a way to slacken the cords a bit? Give yourself a bit more room?”

“Tough with a toddler, so no, not really.” Caroline sighs, a smile creeping up her face as she thinks of Flora. “I love her and I miss her when I’m not with her, so it’s not a problem. Just sometimes...”

Rory waits for a moment for Caroline to finish her sentence before realising that she isn’t going to. Rory follows the train of thought. “I don’t have kids, so I don’t know what that’s like. I nearly did, with my ex, but she didn’t want them as much and we split.” Rory traces patterns on Caroline’s chest, gently outlining the freckles as she speaks. “And then it never really happened for me.” She wistfully shrugs. “Another lifetime, perhaps.”

Caroline delivers a long, soft kiss to her forehead, understanding that long ache for parenthood that had driven her into the arms of John so many years ago, and Kate into the arms of Greg. “I’m sorry.” She knows there is nothing more to say to that. Everything else will be superfluous. She gently pulls Rory into a hug, holding her.

They lie like that for a while, until Rory sits up abruptly. “I need a wee...and a drink. You?”

“Both.”

Rory chuckles, leaning down for another kiss. “Well, you sort out the loo and I’ll sort out the water.” She rises from the bed with grace, walking naked out of the room, Caroline appreciating the view of the lanky goddess in the soft light thrown from the lounge. She soon follows and makes use of the bathroom before finding Rory in the kitchen. The lights are brighter and she feels more than a little self conscious next to the statuesque Amazon that is Rory.

Rory hands her a glass of water that she gulps down, not realising how thirsty she is. “Thank you.” She puts the glass in the sink as her eyes wander down Rory’s body, taking in the athleticism and long-limbed scale of the beauty on offer.

“You have such a gorgeous body.” She sighs, grieving her own youthful shape.

“I’m lucky, and I work with my hands so it’s easy to keep fit.” She pauses, noticing that Caroline is starting to collapse in on herself. “Oh Caroline.” She walks closer to hold Caroline’s face gently in her hands and kisses her softly on the lips. “I like you, Caroline. I like what you look like too. I _love_ how you taste and how you smell, how you move and how you speak.” Rory kisses her lightly again. “I _like_ women. I _like_ how they look, and how life changes their bodies. Women are amazing.”

Caroline tilts her head and peers at Rory, not trusting that Rory’s being entirely honest.

Rory kisses her softly again, running her hands over Caroline’s breasts, her belly, and tantalisingly through her pubic hair before feeling their way around Caroline to rest on her arse.

“You are very beautiful. I love your body. I love the softness of your skin, the texture of it. I love the roundness of your belly. There is a richness, a lushness to it which is welcoming and warm.” She traces her way back up to Caroline’s breasts, holding the weight of them in her hands. “And these are...” she sighs wistfully, “Heavenly.” She continues to caress Caroline’s body as she speaks.

“We’re taught that we’re supposed to hate bits of our body and we see that everywhere, every day. But I really like the things we’re told not to like about ourselves. It feels revolutionary to like them. It’s like saying ‘Fuck you!’ to all those men who tell us what we can and cannot do, should and should not do. And those are the bits that I love the most. I love the softness of your body, the roundness of your belly that has grown children and the breasts that have fed them. I love the dimples and the lines; they all show the life you’ve lived and I love that. I treasure it. You don’t need to hide who you are, not from me.”

Rory holds Caroline’s face tenderly in her hands. “When I first saw you in the bar, putting that groping pig back in his box, I wanted you so badly. I thought you were the sexiest woman I’d seen in years. Fucking hell, Blondie, you were a god and I nearly creamed my pants!” She laughs, a bit stunned that she had admitted it.

Caroline blossoms, a laugh bubbling up from deep within. “Is that so? That could just be my effortless, overwhelming charisma.” The laughter still twinkling in her eyes, she reaches up to find one of Rory’s hands, bringing the palm to her lips to kiss as she becomes more serious. “I stayed for you. I saw you in the corner and changed my plans. I’d only come in for one drink, ‘til I spotted the handsome Amazon in the corner.”

Rory grins. “That’s me.” She kisses Caroline on the lips, desire waking up in her body. “So tell me: what do you like?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you like? In bed.”

“Oh. I like a lot of things actually...”

“Well, I know you liked riding my hand...” Rory smirks, running her hand down Caroline’s body, fingers threading through the soft curls below. “What else do you like?”

Caroline has a flashback of their last time in the kitchen and her breathing becomes shallow. “Shall we take this back to the bedroom?”

“Getting cold? I’m sure I can find a way to warm you up.”

“Promises, promises."

Rory chuckles, a filthy grin reaching her eyes. “Oh, Blondie. I do.” She collects Caroline’s hand and leads them back to the bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed and invites Caroline to straddle her, their height now matching and their lips finding one another in exploration. Rory’s hands wander thrillingly around Caroline’s body, keeping the heat at a low simmer, allowing them to gently reconnect.

“Tell me what you like. I want to know.” Rory mouths the words into Caroline’s shoulder, the skin itching from the light movement of her lips. “I’ll tell you what I like too.”

“Okay.” Caroline nuzzles Rory’s neck. “I did like riding your fingers while you held me. That was glorious. I’ve never done that before, not like that.” She could feel the smile on her skin as Rory kissed the top of her breast.

“I did too. I nearly dropped you because I was so turned on. It was so erotic being inside you, holding you, watching you...” Rory took a nipple into her mouth and sucked it for a while before stopping to ask, “What else do you like?”

“I like it slow and tender, and fast and passionate. It depends on my mood.”

“What mood are you in now?”

“Don’t know yet. Don’t worry; you will,” the wicked grin impossible to hide as Caroline moves to nuzzle the other side of Rory’s neck. “What do you like?”

Rory groans, leaning into Caroline’s ministrations. “I don’t always like anyone inside me, but you, you were perfect earlier.”

Caroline leans back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask. I should have asked.” Concern is written all over her face.

“No, no. It’s okay. It was perfect. I really wanted it, but was too far gone to articulate it. You had just given me the best blow job I can remember; I was up for anything by then.” Rory chuckles. “You really should be in the Guinness Book of Records. That was astounding; so precise and so focused. I felt...consumed. It was simply amazing.”

Caroline raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know what to say to that.” She leans forward to nip Rory’s earlobe. She whispers, “I love how you taste. Better than any wine and just as intoxicating.” She sighs seductively. “Want me to do it again?”

Rory groans and starts writhing, the pressure between her legs getting uncomfortable. She strums her thumbnail over one of Caroline’s nipples, drawing a gasp from her. “Tell me what else you like. Do you like toys?”

“Ye-es,” Caroline manages to get out as her other nipple is pinched. “Sometimes. Not tonight. Tonight I want your fingers and your tongue,” she finally admits, driven to honesty by the pressure on her nipples.

Rory stands suddenly, flipping Caroline safely onto her back on the bed. Caroline squawks with the surprise of being upended so easily, feeling like a turtle stranded on it’s back. “What the fuck!” Caroline sits up and tries to compose herself, which she manages until she sees Rory bend over to reach something in a low drawer, flashing a wet cunt in the process. Caroline swallows, not expecting such an arousing sight but compelled to stare and desperately trying to commit it to memory.

Rory places something beside the bed before kneeling on the edge of it. She drops onto her hands, moving panther-like to Caroline, who is a little awestruck by the beauty of the woman moving towards her. Rory is all sinew and grace, her muscles rippling in the soft light. She’s an astonishing sight and Caroline wonders if she’s just about to be ravaged by the approaching predator. Rory lands one of those kisses that turns her brain to mush and Caroline finds she’s no longer averse to the idea. She is so awash with pleasure that she barely notices when Rory stops kissing her mouth and gently wraps a silk scarf around her head, thick enough to cover her eyes.

“Oh, but I like watching you,” Caroline pleads.

“You can take it off whenever you like, but I’d like you to keep it on, just for a little while.” Rory gently pushes Caroline backwards, kissing her again, their lips already moving in sync. “I want you to feel with your skin, feel where I am on your body, feel what I’m doing.” She reaches down beside the bed and picks up an ostrich feather, brushing it softly over Caroline’s nipples.

Caroline hisses in response, the feeling so unexpected and so inexplicable that she while knows it isn’t Rory’s body, she has no idea what it is. She reaches out with her hands, one of which is caught by Rory, and the other finds Rory’s breast. _Not such a bad find,_ she thinks, starting to massage it. Rory brushes the feather over Caroline’s breasts again, watching her arch into the touch with a moan. Rory leans in, caressing Caroline with her lips and tongue and the feather and her fingers until Caroline doesn’t know how to distinguish the sensations washing over her writhing body. The tender touch on her skin is so rich with information it is almost ecstatically painful. When Rory moves south, she finds Caroline as ready for her as she was at the start of the night. She smiles to herself, delighted to have triggered such a response. She lowers her mouth to Caroline’s clit and her hair tickles Caroline’s thighs, the combination of which is too much for Caroline. She feels completely overloaded with sensation and comes, her body cramping with the strength of it.

Rory carefully lifts the blindfold, seeing Caroline’s eyes while she is in the last stages of her orgasm. Rory kisses her on the mouth, dominating her while she is still scattered amongst the stars. She rolls Caroline on top of her and uses her legs to spread Caroline’s thighs so she straddles Rory. She waits until Caroline’s contractions slow and then she plunges her fingers inside, triggering another orgasm. Caroline cries out, her body arching as she throws her head back. She is a wild woman, riding the fingers hard as she comes. In the midst of frantic motion she feels becalmed, surfing waves disconnected from the shore of her past and the land of her future. It is here, in this liminal space between earth and sky that she connects to the woman with fingers inside her, the one driving her to ecstasy.

 

 

————————————————————————

 _“I tell you it has taken me all my life_  
_to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,_  
_to soften and blur and finally banish_  
_the edges you regret I don’t see,_  
_to learn that the line I called the horizon_  
_does not exist and sky and water,_  
_so long apart, are the same state of being.”_

From _“Monet Refuses the Operation”_ by Lisel Mueller 1996

 


	4. Burn to Mix with Air

The pre-dawn light colours the valley with a layer of blue as Rory rouses from slumber, the early morning a habit despite the alcohol and lack of sleep encouraging her to remain with her dreams.

She yawns and turns her head, taking in the mess of blonde hair covering one of her shoulders and tickling her chin. She smiles, the memories of the night returning. She hasn’t had this much fun in years. There have been others recently, a few for a night and even fewer for longer, but none with such vibrancy as the smart woman quietly snuffling next to her. Or is it a whiffle; she can’t decide. The thought that this erudite and sharply blunt woman would whiffle or snuffle quietly in her sleep is a delicious joy. A laugh starts bubbling up from her belly, but she bites her lip and manages to hold it in, a broad smile rising in it’s place.

The quiet snuffling and gentle exhalation of breath onto her shoulder gives Rory the chance to quietly reflect on her night. She closes her eyes and snuggles into the soft warmth of the woman who lies draped over the left side of her body. There is something very appealing about Caroline, despite the obvious complications of work and children.

It has been a long time since Rory’s been really taken with someone. Probably Clare, she thinks, and that was a long time ago. When she met Clare, they had fallen into bed after talking from dinner ‘til daylight, connecting at such a deep level that the dozen years they had together seemed inevitable at the time. The fact they drifted apart as they grew older was something that Rory regrets, almost as much as she regrets not dealing sooner with the fact that Clare never wanted children. She sighs softly.

Clare was black, as had been many of her lovers. There was something wonderfully affirming about sliding her hands over skin that matched hers. There was a sense of home about it that she hadn’t found with many of her other lovers. Tonight though, the contrast was aesthetically erotic. Caroline’s fair skin had a translucent glow in the low light that was mesmerising. The sight of her own hands, so dark in outline as she caressed the pale pink of Caroline’s body, left a trail of still frames in her vision, a chiaroscuro reminiscent of a Sven Nykvist film. She sighs quietly, remembering her hands on Caroline’s beautiful breasts and she has to stop herself from rolling over and burying her face between them. She opens her eyes again, holding herself in check from the urge to touch, to taste.

Rory can even feel herself getting a bit attached. There is always a connection, something that draws her to her lovers. It could be the shared joy of adventure or narrowboats, or writing or Shakespeare; it has never been just the physical attraction. When she stood next to Caroline at the bar and made eye contact, Rory had known this woman was special, just as she had known they’d end up in bed together. There was something indefinable about Caroline that connected deeply to Rory’s psyche. It wasn’t just Caroline’s performance with the handsy scrote, but holy hell, that had been hot! Rory smiles to herself, still a little embarrassed. She can’t believe she’d actually told Caroline just how turned on she’d been by that. She can feel the blush rising up her chest and is a bit relieved that Caroline is sleeping and isn’t awake to witness it.

Rory knows herself well enough to understand that while she has a strong personality, she likes women who share power in their relationships. She doesn’t want to dominate, nor be dominated. Caroline had reeked of power when she’d bitchily strutted into that bar, and even naked there is still a soft power that oozes from her. It is almost a presumption of authority, no matter the situation. But Caroline was also willing to let Rory be in charge for part of the night, and that bode well for their potential compatibility. The adrenaline rush of the evening and the exhilarating sex hadn’t left Rory much time to even contemplate a future with this woman, so she’s a bit shocked now she has time to imagine the possibilities. She can see them dancing up a storm at a posh do, herself in a tux and Caroline stunning in a frock. Or lazing about on the back of the _Madeleine,_ wine in hand on a languid summer afternoon. A sense of excitement about the future settles in her belly, something she hasn’t felt in a while.

In that moment, Caroline stirs. She nestles her face deeper into Rory’s neck, snaking her arm further around Rory’s ribs as she shifts in her sleep. There is the inevitable freeze until the memories of the night resurface. The tension in Caroline’s body gradually softens as Rory gently strokes her back in soothing circles.

“Morning,” Rory utters quietly. “I wondered when you might wake.” Rory can feel Caroline blinking, her eyelashes tickling a little on Rory’s skin.

Caroline clears her throat. “Good morning.” She tilts her head to find Rory’s eyes. Rory rolls over slightly, still holding Caroline close, but angling them so they can more easily look at one another.

“Hello.” Rory leans in and gently kisses Caroline on the mouth.

“Mmmm. That’s a lovely way to start the day. What time is it?” Not really awake, the question is more one of habit than any real desire to know the time, or to start her day.

“A bit after five I think.”

Caroline groans, tucking her face into Rory’s chest. “Too fucking early,” she manages to mumble into the soft flesh, tickling and bringing a smile to Rory’s face.

“Sorry. It’s when I normally get up.”

“What the hell for? I thought you worked for yourself?” Caroline is still mumbling into Rory’s chest, unwilling to open her eyes and face the day just yet.

“You’re a bit of a potty mouth when you wake up, aren’t you?”

“Got a bloody problem with that, Kitten Kong?”

Rory scoffs, not quite offended. “Kitten Kong!”

“What else would I call an oversized panther who insists on waking at stupid o’clock in the morning to demand attention!”

Rory laughs, wrapping Caroline in her long arms and nudges her with her nose until Caroline turns her head, accepting the offered kiss. “You really aren’t a morning person, are you.”

“Not in the slightest. What gave it away?”

Rory smirks, leaning in for another soft kiss. “Lucky I’m awake enough for the both of us, then, isn’t it?”

Caroline decides that kissing Rory is a much better answer, and leans in for another kiss, soft lips exploring around Rory’s mouth. She’s just settling in for one of those delicious, gentle kissing sessions when Rory calls a halt to the proceedings.

“Stop. Sorry. Sorry.” Rory pulls away, her mouth firmly closed. “Not you, I promise. Want to do this; really want to do this, but the morning after a couple of stouts, my mouth tastes like a parrot died in it.”

Caroline chuckles. “Really? That bad.”

“Yeah, sorry. I need to clean my teeth.” Rory moves to get out of bed when she’s grabbed by Caroline.

“You wouldn’t have a spare toothbrush, would you?”

Rory turns, the soft light still spilling from the lounge revealing enough to see Caroline stretched naked over her bed. “God, you are gorgeous.” Rory sighs, having to stop herself from jumping back into bed to run her hands and mouth over the freckled landscape on display. “Back in a moment.” Caroline lets go and Rory bolts to the bathroom, wanting to minimise the time away from the lush body waiting for her exploration.

Caroline drops her face into the bedding, not wanting to move, but knowing her mouth is tasting just as bad as Rory described. Kissing. She knows she wants it. She groans and drags her body off the bed. “Feeling more like a carcass this morning Caroline,” she mumbles to herself.

Stumbling to her feet, Caroline follows Rory into the bathroom, thankful that Rory hasn’t turned on the bright lights. Still lulled by the soft focus remnants of sleep, she kisses Rory between her shoulder blades and snuggles into Rory’s back, sliding her arms around the muscly torso. Closing her eyes, she smiles as the body she is holding moves with the motion of cleaning teeth. When Rory is done, she rinses her toothbrush and holds it out for Caroline.

“I can rinse it with boiling water, but frankly, I’m intending to snog you senseless so we’ll be swapping germs anyway.” She can see Caroline’s grimace in the mirror. “Sorry. I don’t have a new one.” Rory screws up her face apologetically. “Want me to rinse it with water from the kettle?”

“No. It’s okay. You’re right. I’m just being fussy.” Caroline steps around Rory to collect the toothbrush before loading it up with toothpaste. The distraction allows Rory the luxury of wrapping an arm around Caroline from behind, running her hand over Caroline’s belly. With the other hand she gently brushes the blonde hair from the neck she is aiming for. Her kisses are punctuated with words, “Your...immune...system...will...flourish...” Caroline nearly chokes as she snorts. She looks at Rory in the mirror, “You really are trying to put me off.”

Rory’s grin is purely wicked. “Is it working, or can I still snog you to within an inch of your life?”

Caroline purses her lips, still covered in toothpaste. She points the toothbrush at the Rory in the mirror, “You’re a bit of a twat in the mornings, aren’t you?”

“Might be.” Rory smirks, “But you love it.”

Caroline chuckles, knowing that this morning, Rory’s right. She rinses her mouth and turns in Rory’s arms, sliding fingers behind Rory’s head and into her hair. “So, now you won’t mind if I do this.” She pulls Rory down to her for a deep kiss, one with a lot of tongue. Rory moans and pulls Caroline into her, twisting their bodies until they fit and there are no gaps between them. The sensuality of it for Caroline, in her half awake state, is amplified as her normally sharp boundaries blur. She feels like she is almost merging with Rory, the sense of where she ends and Rory starts harder to discern. Not that she wants to examine it in any detail. She is completely absorbed by the kiss and unusually for Caroline, there is no private chatter in the background of her mind. The kiss doesn’t feel like a prelude to anything, but a full sonata, rich with texture and taste, blooming with rhythm and colour. It’s a long time before they come up for air. Caroline slides her hand to hold Rory’s face, looking deep into her eyes.

“Well, that...That was...Shall we do a bit more of that?” Caroline nods towards the bedroom, still a bit breathless.

Rory motions with her hand, “After you Blondie.” Caroline smiles, the nickname growing on her.

They lie down facing each other, close enough to touch, and far enough away to look into each other’s eyes as they do. They reach towards each other and kiss tenderly. Rory drags the blanket over them to ward off the morning cold while Caroline strokes Rory’s face with her fingertips. Caroline feels cocooned, safe from the outside world.

It is in this tender nest that Caroline feels she can quietly explore the being in front of her. She holds one of Rory’s hands and threads her own fingers through Rory’s, bringing the brightly coloured nails to her lips for a lingering kiss.

“So tell me about your fingernails. Why all the colours?”

Rory smiles, the mien of love settling on her face. “They remind me of my mum. She was a climatologist. She worked in Antarctica before I was born and she thought the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen was the Aurora Australis. That’s why she named me Aurora - Rory for short.” Rory squeezes her hand, still entwined with Caroline’s. “She’d tell me stories about the penguins and the ice and how the colours skipped over the landscape like a reflection of the heavens. When I was young she made a game of painting my nails the colours in the sky.” She pauses, moving her fingers in an unhurried, colourful wave against Caroline’s hand, “So when she died a few years ago, I started painting my nails again, to remind me of her.”

Caroline caresses the ends of Rory’s fingers, running her thumbs gently over the brightly coloured nails. “I’m sorry about your mum.” She looks into Rory’s eyes, recognising the grief that resides there. “What a lovely way to remember her though.” Caroline lifts Rory’s fingers to her mouth, kissing them tenderly, a small offering of support.

Rory takes a deep breath, breathing out slowly to push away the emotions that were threatening. “She had a heart attack two years ago. Dad’s still going but he’s finding it very hard without her. I spend a lot of time in Derbyshire with him now. It’s where I do most of my complete overhauls so I can stay with him.”

“I’m sorry.” Caroline moves her hand, letting it cup Rory’s cheek. “Is it good with your dad?”

“Yeah. We get on well. He was the one who originally taught me about boats and fixing them. We often work on things together.” Rory sighs heavily, thoughts of her dad inevitably leading to the intertwined feelings of missing him and worrying about him, which twists into a knotted rope of guilt. She changes tack, returning to the toddler who had made Caroline’s eyes shine with joy the previous night. “Tell me more about Flora.”

Caroline opens her eyes to look at Rory, wondering how much to say. She can see the expectation of joy in Rory’s eyes, and part of her wants to give her that. But there’s another part of her, desperate for a deeper connection with this woman and for that, she needs to tell her about Kate. It is always a disaster telling anyone about her wife, and yet it is so fundamental to her being that for people not to know is tantamount to lying about everything. Caroline shuts her eyes for a moment, knowing that it is time to tell Rory. She stares at Rory’s chest, drawing a pattern on the skin with her fingers to avoid watching the inevitable reaction of shock followed by pity. She isn’t sure why, but she feels that telling Rory is important. She breathes, hunting for the courage as well as the language.

“My wife...Kate died the day Flora was born. She’s Flora’s birth mother. It’s been a tough couple of years...” Caroline stops. Somehow it was harder to tell Rory while Rory was stroking the side of her face. She could feel Rory’s fingers pause, and then continue. She looks up, making eye contact, seeing empathy and compassion rather than pity. Instead of looking away, Rory looks deeper into Caroline’s eyes, taking it all in. She’s moving towards Caroline and her grief, not away from it. Caroline’s heart starts to swell, knowing that this is completely different to the reaction she normally gets. Rory continues to stroke Caroline’s face, but Caroline can see the tears welling in Rory’s eyes. A gulf of experience lies between them so the weight of Caroline’s hand on Rory’s chest, and the soft caress of Rory’s fingers on Caroline’s face are the only bridges connecting them in the pre-dawn silence. Rory leans forward, and ever so gently kisses Caroline on the lips. A tear falls from her eye while she continues to caress Caroline’s face.

“Will you tell me about her?” Rory asks quietly.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Our weighted shapes, these verticals,_  
_burn to mix with air_  
_and changes our bones, skin, clothes_  
_to gases._  
From _“Monet Refuses the Operation”_ by Lisel Mueller 1996

 

 _“Kitten Kong”_ with Twinkle the cat who was fed a growth serum in _The Goodies,_ S02E07, 1971  
_https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be &v=tb59dEHRt5Q _  
 


	5. Light Becomes What It Touches

Caroline lies in Rory’s warm embrace while she watches her fingers tracing the contours of Rory’s chest. Allowing herself to think of Kate, Caroline hears the sounds of Kate’s lyrical voice and vibrant laugh skipping through her mind like a cool breeze on a summer’s day. The joy of it warms her heart and Caroline misses her wife afresh. She takes a deep breath, relishing the memory before letting it go. She searches for the right words to share Kate with Rory.

“Kate was lovely. There really isn’t another word that suits her as well. She was strong and smart, and funny and thoughtful, and it all came together in this lovely package.” Caroline smiles sadly, remembering the day Kate sat with her on the floor of her office, holding her hand while the relief of finding her mum safe had come out in tears. “She was a gentle soul, and so kind. It was all the little things she did that meant so much. All the thoughtful touches that she added to my life.” Caroline sighs regretfully. “I wanted so much to be better for her, but when we started seeing each other, I was in the middle of divorcing a philandering, childish twat, with one son just about to leave the nest and the other in a constant snit because his dad had abandoned him and his mum was struggling to come out of the closet.” She laughs, a rueful sound of bewilderment about that time in her life. “I have no idea why she found me even vaguely appealing, but despite all the hurdles we were making it work. I’d never been happier.”

Caroline looks up at Rory, seeing only interest and compassion. The smile slowly fades as the memories of Kate’s final days settle in her mind. She rests her head on Rory’s chest, her unfocused gaze replaying the past. Even her voice is a little flat, like she is reciting a well-played record. “Kate was eight months pregnant when we were married. We wanted to make it official before Flora was born. I was so besotted with her, so in love with her...Honestly, I’d have done anything at that point to keep her, to make her happy.” Caroline takes a deep breath as she snuggles deeper into Rory’s body, listening to the soothing rhythm of the heart beneath her for a few moments. “There was a hit and run accident the day after we were married. Kate was killed. They pulled Flora from her body...Kate never saw her...” Caroline’s voice catches. She’s held it together until now, but it is the thought of Kate never seeing Flora, never holding her that crushes Caroline. Part of her will never forgive a world that would allow such cruelty.

Rory wraps her arms around Caroline more tightly, kissing the top of Caroline’s head. The moment passes and Caroline collects herself.

“Sorry. It hits me sometimes.”

“That’s what grief does to me too. It lies in wait and pounces when I least expect. A memory of my mum and I’m in tears again. Any time I watch the night sky I think of her; I’ll be fine, and then I’m right back there...”

“Grief is a nasty business. I’m sorry about your mum.”

“I’m sorry about Kate. Truly awful. I can’t even begin to imagine how devastating that was for you.” Rory pauses, wanting to know more but unsure if it is too intrusive to ask. She asks gently, “How are you coping now?”

Caroline’s normal response of _“I’m fine”_ is adequate in most social situations, but with her head resting on Rory’s naked chest, Caroline is compelled to be more honest. She sighs heavily. “I’m sad. I never used to be sad; well I could be sad but it wasn’t like it was a permanent state of...didn’t define who I am. But now it seems to cling to my skin, threatening to drown me sometimes.” Protected by the strong arms of her new lover and with the early morning streaming in through the thin curtains, Caroline finally lets some light into the darker recesses of her grief. She feels something shift, the old truth changing as she speaks. Caroline lifts her head to look at Rory, a bit surprised, the new truth not yet understood but becoming visible through the skin of the old. “Last night was good, for me.” She kisses Rory on the lips, lingering as their lips part. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure...literally!” Rory chuckles softly, hoping to provide some levity alongside Caroline’s weighty revelations. Caroline smiles, kissing Rory again.

“It was a lot of fun. You are more than distracting, particularly when in panther mode.”

Rory laughs. “What’s panther mode? Sounds like a special weapon in a video game.”

“When you stalked me in bed, all muscles and sinew, just before you...you know...with the feather.” Caroline blushes a bit, remembering how turned on she’d been, and how many times she’d come. 

“Oh, so that’s panther mode. Panther. I like that better than Kitten Kong.”

“I’m sure you do.” Caroline grins, mentally comparing the cute overgrown kitten from The Goodies to the sensuous panther who had stormed her sexual battlements the previous night. She wonders how she can persuade Rory to take charge like that again, so she goads Rory, calling to her breathily, “Here Kitty Kitty...”

Rory snorts and rolls them both over, hovering above Caroline with an easy grace, watching Caroline for a moment before lowering her head to softly bite Caroline’s neck with a low growl. Caroline chuckles, her lips parting as she bends her neck, providing more skin for Rory’s mouth, eager for distraction from her thoughts about Kate. It had been like that with Olga too, using sex to anaesthetise her suffering.

Rory swaps her teeth for her lips and draws open-mouthed kisses along Caroline’s throat, up to her mouth. Already in synch, their kisses are a slow exploration of each other, soft sighs acting as an understated counterpoint to the sounds of their lips. Rory’s lips travel, kissing their way down Caroline’s chest, raising her nipples to hard peaks before crossing the terrain of her belly. Caroline arches her body, stretching into the pleasure from Rory’s mouth and hands. She moans, low and carnal, the sensual sound scrambling Rory’s brain.

Overwhelmed by lust, Rory hunts for the enticing aroma of Caroline’s arousal that infuses her senses. She buries her face in Caroline’s cunt, craving the taste of her. Completely intoxicated by desire, Rory loses track of time, her need to give pleasure only a slim measure ahead of her need to take it. Fingernails claw at her scalp, bringing her back from her erotic haze and refocusing her efforts on Caroline’s ecstasy as she builds to an orgasm. Rory sucks Caroline’s clit hard and Caroline cries out, head thrown back and body rigid, clutching Rory tightly to her as she comes. 

It is a while before Caroline releases her grip on Rory’s head, still gasping for air as she recovers. One of her hands searches for Rory’s as it lies on Caroline’s belly, their fingers entwining to create a herringbone pattern of their own. Rory rests her head on Caroline’s thigh, watching the sun throwing shadows through the lace curtain onto Caroline’s skin. Contentedness fills her with a warm glow, the morning light gracing them with a hint of summer.

It is while Caroline is floating in this nebulous space between worlds that Rory climbs up her body and rolls them both over, moving so they are lying next to one another. Rory cups Caroline’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb.

“Open your eyes Caroline. Look at me.”

Caroline pulls herself back into her body, enough to register the command before her eyelids flick open. “Hello.” She leans forward to kiss Rory, tasting herself on Rory’s lips.

“Hello.” Rory smiles, her face full of peace.

“That was...wonderful.” Caroline looks into Rory’s eyes, her expression still soft from her recent release.

Rory nudges Caroline’s nose with hers, then kisses her again. It is Caroline who slowly ratchets up the heat of it, delving deeper into Rory’s mouth with her tongue as her hands caress the muscular body within reach. Rory gasps when Caroline finds a breast and caresses it, gently rubbing the nipple between her fingers. Pulling Rory into her, Caroline relishes the feeling of Rory’s body touching hers, running her fingers over the topography, appreciating the different textures of the skin until she drops her fingers into the arousal she finds between Rory’s legs. Rory moans as she opens her thighs, giving Caroline access as she grips Caroline’s sensual arse in her large hand.

Rory opens her eyes to find Caroline observing her face as Caroline’s fingers explore her cunt. Caroline’s gaze is almost scientific in its inspection, as if Rory is the sole participant in a study with Caroline cataloguing her response. It’s been a long time since Rory has been observed so closely and she finds the intensity of it thrilling.

Rory’s arousal grows, her eyes widening and her pupils dilating, corresponding with her increasingly shallow breathing through parted lips. Caroline watches as Rory responds to her touch, listening to the sounds she makes as she nears her climax. Caroline fights her natural inclination to hide but she’s fascinated by Rory’s response to her. Looking deep into her eyes, Caroline watches as Rory lets Caroline in. It is an exquisite connection. The shock of the unexpected depth of their connection and Rory’s raw vulnerability dissolves the barriers Caroline normally erects to keep people out; the intelligence, the immaculate exterior, the sharp wit. She can feel Rory looking past all that, past her grief, beyond her fear and into the bedrock of love that she knows resides deep in her soul. She feels truly seen, like Rory can look into the core of her being. She feels connected to Rory in a way she hasn’t felt with anyone in years.

She hasn’t felt like this since Kate.

Instantly the fear overwhelms her. She can feel it wash over her like crude oil, filling the crevices of her skin and extinguishing her joy, pulling her back into her cavern of safe isolation. She closes her eyes, cutting the intense link with Rory, terrified to be this vulnerable with anyone again.

Rory gasps, the sudden break in their bond tangible and shocking, like the light between them has gone out. She hesitates for a moment, before reaching out again. She gently holds Caroline’s face under her hand, kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Caroline. It’s okay. Come back to me.” She kisses her again. “You’re safe.”

Caroline opens her eyes, daring herself to look again at Rory. With a shaky voice she admits, “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”      

Eyes still full of arousal, Rory whispers, “Actually, I think you are. I just think this is unbelievably scary for both of us.”

For Caroline, beyond the fear of connection is the fear of being hurt again, which is palpable and terrifying. Somehow Rory reaches in, and Caroline can feel the warmth of their bond run through her. She closes her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage, and she looks into Rory’s eyes. She can feel the tension leaving with each breath she takes, drawing strength from the kindness she can see in Rory’s face. She can’t quite believe she’s stumbled upon someone like Rory, who is so gentle and understanding.

“Breathe, Caroline.” Rory moves Caroline’s hand to her own ribcage, breathing with her, enchanting her with deeper and slower breathing until they are breathing in synch. As their hands caress again, their breathing becomes more rapid.

Caroline moves her hand lower to explore Rory’s wetness, just as Rory roams Caroline’s body with her fingers until she finds Caroline just as ready. Caroline arches into the touch, the roughness of Rory’s fingers contrasting erotically with her slick arousal.

As they watch each other, a sense of safety surrounds Caroline and she liberates herself from her fear. Their connection changes form. The longer she stares into Rory’s eyes the more she is bonded to her, their souls becoming entangled. Her body crests the wave of her orgasm just after Rory starts hers, their cries weaving together as they come. She holds Rory’s hand to her, too sensitive for any more movement, breathing hard as she returns to space above the dank canal and below the filtered light of the sky. Finally, she closes her eyes, the link between them too intense to continue, its mutability no longer certain.

As the early morning streams onto the bed and their breathing returns to normal, Rory kisses Caroline and then enfolds her within strong arms. A warm smile of gratitude rises up Rory’s face and she closes her eyes. They lie wrapped in each other’s arms, relinquishing language for the quiet safety of their physical closeness, an entanglement now anchored for both of them.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _The world is flux,_  
_and light becomes what it touches_  
_becomes water, lilies on water,_  
_above and below water,_  
_becomes lilac and mauve and yellow_  
_and white and cerulean lamps,_  
_small fists passing sunlight_  
_so quickly to one another_  
_that it would take long, streaming hair_  
_inside my brush to catch it._

From _“Monet Refuses the Operation”_ by Lisel Mueller 1996

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my fabulous anon beta, who helped me to find some grace in this chapter.


	6. Doctor, If Only You Could See

Caroline lies surrounded by Rory’s warm arms. Lying there with her eyes open, Caroline senses that something has shifted deep within her, but it is too nebulous to articulate exactly what has changed. She nestles deeper into Rory’s chest, grateful for the solid support offered by the sensitive soul who breathes in harmony with her.

Caroline knows she is lighter than before. The twelve hours with Rory has released some of her heartbreak. The ineffable sadness that has gripped her chest for the last few years feels less constricting and she can finally breathe again. She takes a few deep breaths to prove the validity of the sensation and a slight giddiness is the result. She runs her hand over her own rib cage, checking the size of it because her heart feels larger. The space it held for Kate is still there but there is room now for more love. For another love. Her heart feels expansive rather than strangled and for the first time since Flora’s arrival she can genuinely see the possibilities of a future with someone other than Kate.

She’d always known that Olga was a lovely distraction, but only that. Olga was someone who understood life as a lighter, less serious engagement and was a much needed escape from the grinding grief that was crushing Caroline’s very being. Olga had been a blessing during that time, dragging Caroline out of her misery. She smirks as she remembers when Olga decided they should try the ridiculous poses of the Karma Sutra. It was a lot of fun until Caroline had pulled a muscle in her back which had crippled her for weeks and with the benefit of hindsight, she’d not recommend having a dodgy back and a toddler. But enough was enough. Caroline knew it had no future and it was kinder to let Olga go when Caroline finally cut the ties nearly a year ago.

Since then, Caroline had tried to find someone else, but she’d known she wasn’t ready and it had been a bit of a disaster. She’d read a self-help book — discreetly hidden behind the book jacket of a biography of Marie Curie — and had pushed herself to follow some of its dubious guidance. She’d even tried to be more adventurous and to be open to the idea of dating someone. Helen, a postmistress from Huddersfield was the first and if Caroline was honest with herself, their connection had had more to do with the wine than anything else. Three sheets to the wind after a tough week at school, Caroline had known it wasn’t going to work by the end of the first snog. Extracting herself from the socially difficult situation had been framed in her head as an almost military exercise, with a white flag flown instead of the standard white lies raised up the flagpole of social niceties.

Her second foray into distraction from her self-imposed isolation had been a rugby player from Leeds. Danielle had legs up to her neck and Caroline had simply been beguiled by the thought of following them up to their apex with her tongue when she’d been caught staring. Sloppy perving on her part had led to a not insignificant measure of embarrassment, followed by a date the next day.

Caroline had been a nervous wreck. The intervening 24 hours had allowed her to plan the entire evening, reworking the potential of it until all outcomes led to catastrophe. Of course, none of the catastrophes had eventuated; Danielle had been funny, thoughtful and adventurous. Sexy as hell, Danielle had inspired a touch-starved Caroline into almost tongue-tied drooling by the end of their second drink. Unfortunately it was the pub and not Danielle’s erotic appeal that had heralded the outcome of the evening. Caroline had followed Danielle home and after much initial fumbling on Caroline’s part, had engaged in a night of vigorous shagging. They’d shagged until Caroline had collapsed with exhaustion, clocking up woman number four: not that she was counting. It had been a blast while she was in a haze of lust and fueled by alcohol, and she had become conscious of just how much she enjoyed the thrill of exploring another woman’s body: the scents, the textures, the sounds.

Her night with Danielle had given her relief from regular self-gratification and a new framework for exploring sex. It was the first time she’d understood sex as being an exothermic reaction. She’d used alcohol as a catalyst to reduce the activation energy she’d needed to overcome her inertia. Once started, sex followed the rules of a typical exothermic reaction by forming new chemical bonds and in the process, producing heat. She’d been delighted with that more philosophical understanding of it and had attempted to share it with Danielle who had had the temerity to laugh. 

The fact that Caroline had risen to find herself in a bedroom with a floor that looked like a cross between a crime scene and a third-rate laundromat was the final indicator. She’d realised then that it was only meant to be a single night and she’d found it excruciating trying to extricate herself from someone who wanted more.

The thought crosses her mind that she now has the reverse problem. She doesn’t really want to go home. 

It is more than relief from the ever-pressing weight of responsibility. It is also more than the wonderful sex, although that had been unexpectedly fabulous. She knows she has missed touching, and being touched by a lover. She moves her hand over Rory’s belly, enjoying the sensations under her fingers, a smile creeping up her face. She sighs contentedly and snuggles tighter into Rory’s body, soaking up more than physical warmth. She is in heaven.

Caroline understands the psychological drive to bond after the chemical hits of oxytocin that had flooded her body after each orgasm. She must be awash with it as Christ knows how many orgasms she’s had in the last 12 hours. She also knows she’ll be sore for days and will be walking like she’s just ridden a horse. She suspects that her mum will notice her tender movements, even if she manages to hide the bite marks on her neck. Caroline smiles to herself: absolutely worth every second of it. The possibility of doing this more often with Rory flashes across her mind and she surmises they’d be shagging so much that she’d spend the rest of her life walking like John Wayne. The thought tickles her and she snorts.

“What?”

Caroline grins. “Sorry, I was thinking about John Wayne.”

“Who? The Duke? Where did that come from?” Rory smiles and raises her hand to stroke Caroline’s back.

“I’m a little sore. I think I’ll be walking like John Wayne today.”

“Oh.” Rory catches on and bursts into laughter. “I can see you now, Sheriff, with a six-shooter hanging off your hip, striding down the corridors of your school, legs wide like you’re walking around your sore twat.” Laughing, she pokes Caroline gently in the belly. “Are we going to have to find you a horse so you have an excuse?”

Caroline chuckles, a little embarrassed. “Possibly.”

“Hi-yo Silver. Away!” Rory smirks.

“Oh, so now I’m the Lone Ranger not the Duke?" 

“Western is, as western does.” Rory mimics Tom Hank’s accent as she butchers his quote from Forest Gump. She smiles, stroking the freckled arm within reach, a calm settling over her. “Are you really okay? I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“No. No. It’s just been a while...” Caroline could feel the flush rising up her chest, “And it was a lot...”

Rory chuckles. “It was, wasn’t it? Good though.” She kisses Caroline on the top of her head. She feels the mood settle into something more serious. “I’d like to see you again.” She doesn’t mean to drop it like that. It popped into her head and it came out of her mouth, her filter not yet in place. The words are loaded and they land like a nerve agent, bringing with them an unnatural silence.

Caroline stills her hand, not quite sure how to answer that. There is definitely something happening between them, although Caroline isn’t sure what. She had never been overt in her public displays of affection, but last night she had been driven to utter recklessness. She can’t quite believe that she had nearly lost control in an alley. She knew that she had been drunk on pheromones and wine, but to lose herself so completely in her need for another was not her at all. It was just not _done_. She closes her eyes, wanting to understand what had changed and is more than a little trepidatious about what it might mean.

Soothed by the spicy scent of Rory’s skin and the coconut of her hair, Caroline lies deep in thought. There is something pulling her towards this woman: a need that is more than desire, more than the right mixture of pheromones. She hasn’t felt this calm for so long that she almost doesn’t recognise it for what it is. Contentment. It was something she felt when she and Kate were alone, after all the mucking around had been dealt with, just before their wedding. She’d been really clear about what, and who, she wanted, and that clarity had settled into her bones. She’d missed it, not even knowing what it was until it was gone. “I’d like that too,” she whispers, barely able to reveal her yearning for more, afraid the admission would lead to its destruction.

Their declaration of intention surrounds them in a cocoon. The simplicity of the confession offers profound possibilities. They lie there in the quiet of the morning, safely ensconced in one another’s arms while the world moves past them. They listen to the joggers on the towpath as they shuffle past and the early morning diesel vans as they rumble on their way to deliver produce to the shops in town. A narrowboat chugs past them on the canal, the swell and sway of its wake settling their bodies tighter until they are entwined, unwilling to let the other go just yet. The sounds of life outside the cabin act as signifiers for the reality that awaits them both, each one reflecting on the difficulties of logistics and obstacles that life will place in their path before they might return to this sanctuary.

Caroline lifts her head to look at Rory, cutting to the heart of it. “How is it going to work? I have a full time job and a toddler, and you travel.”

Rory distractedly draws circles on Caroline’s skin as she thinks about the question. “I don’t know. I know you need somewhere stable, and presumably close to here.” She swallows, not wanting to admit the rest. She sighs heavily. “But I have to leave tomorrow. I have a job in Rochdale to refurbish a 60 footer for an old client of mine. Then it’s on to Stafford and Nottingham. I’ll be busy all summer.” Her voice drops at this, the disappointment evident. “I’m sorry.”

Caroline nods. “I know. I guess I expected it. It always seemed so...” She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. “Are there no gaps in there? No way you could come via Huddersfield, or anywhere near here between jobs?”

Rory sighs, her face crumpling. “Not really. It takes so long to travel along the canals that I’ve scheduled only enough time to get to each client and the time I’ll need for the job.” She breathes deeply, like she’s trying to take in enough oxygen to push out the emotions that are building.

“And after?”

“Dad’s.”

Caroline closes her eyes, taking it all in. She drops her head onto Rory’s shoulder again, her mind whirring, trying to find a solution. “I guess I could travel to see you, if you’re not too far.” She’s calculating distances and travel times and how she could manage childcare for Flora, but it’s all starting to sound a bit impossible. “We could coordinate our diaries and see if there are any overlaps, and I could take a week off over summer. I could see if Greg could take Flora and if Lawrence is with John, then...” She looks at Rory, the realisation that a day or two every now and then isn’t going to be enough. It’s going to make things harder every time they separate until it rips them both apart. She starts to panic a little, the agitation evident in the shaking of her fingers on Rory’s chest.

Rory squeezes her gently. “I know. That’s what I’ve been thinking too. I don’t know how we can make it work without killing us.”

Caroline feels herself shutting down. The possibilities of something more with Rory are so close, and yet no path is visible. The logistics were so easy with Kate, seemingly simple despite the emotional minefields. And Olga, well she knew that Olga did all the work in that relationship, making an effort to fit around Caroline’s timetable and needs. She can’t believe after the blind luck of finding someone like Rory, someone she feels such a strong connection with, that they can’t make it work. She’s stunned that they can’t find a way and she lays her head back down on Rory’s chest and sighs with the full weight of her despondency.

“I guess I’d better get ready to go then.” Caroline resigns herself to saying goodbye. It’s far too awkward doing that while naked and in someone’s arms. She moves to kiss Rory softly on the lips. They both know that this is the beginning of the end for them, and Caroline can see Rory’s eyes starting to fill.

“Can you not stay a little longer?”

“Not really. I need to be getting back to Flora.” She kisses Rory again. Slowly. Deliberately. “I’m sorry.” What she’s not saying is that it hurts too much to stay. Now there is no future for them, there is a sharp pain in her chest. She is abandoning ship before it sinks them both.

Caroline lifts herself up, stopped in her progress by strong arms, just for a moment before Rory releases her. She rises from the bed, one arm extended, still holding Rory’s hand. “May I use your shower?”

Rory nods. “Fresh towels are in the cupboard by the sink. Everything’s there.”

Caroline smiles sadly, squeezes Rory’s hand and lets go. Rory rolls over to watch her pick up her clothes and shoes and listens as Caroline trudges into the bathroom. She closes her eyes and hears the shower running, imagining the water cascading down Caroline’s lush curves, running over the smooth skin as her hands had done not moments ago. Normally she’d bounce out of bed to join her new lover, but things had changed in the last few minutes.

The sense of loss for Rory is more profound than she thought it would be. Watching Caroline leave her sight brought it home to her. She never expected to fall for anyone during the span of a single night, but she’d known with Clare, and now she knew with Caroline.

It wasn’t like Caroline wasn’t keen; she was. She had felt the disappointment radiating off Caroline earlier. She’d seen Caroline’s face fall, the sense of loss written all over her body in the way her shoulders slumped and the hope drained from her eyes. Logistics and life were against them, and Rory didn’t know how to fix that. She was used to being the problem solver in her family, but she didn’t know how to solve this. The obligations she’d comfortably shouldered in the past were now burdensome, hindering her from moving on from Clare and from the loss of her mum. The irony is not lost on her that she lives in a house that moves and yet she is becalmed, unable to find even a small breeze to counter the prevailing wind of stagnation. She wraps her large hands over her face and holds in more tears, not wanting them to show until Caroline has gone.

Caroline stands in the shower, hands on the wall propping herself up as the water washes away the evidence of her own tears. She gulps, pushing the abandonment deep into her belly as she slowly rebuilds her sense of self. Toughened from years of hard lessons from her parents, the scaffolding of her exterior shell covers the vulnerabilities left by anyone she’s loved, leaving only the scars visible. She turns off the taps, letting herself drip for a moment before stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel. As she dries herself and gets into her clothes, the exoskeleton of power and bitchiness slots into place. She does what she can with her hair using a towel and a comb. She looks at herself in the mirror and breathes slowly, bringing her life back under control. She doesn’t look ostensibly different to the woman she saw in the mirror yesterday morning, but she knows that mirrors lie. There is a hollowness that accompanies the woman in today’s reflection, although Kate travels lighter with her today. It’s an odd feeling, and she doesn’t quite know what to do with it. She paints on her face, the last constituent in her armour. While she does this she reminds herself of all she is, and all she has accomplished. It is the final brick in the wall that protects her from the outside world that has been so hostile for most of her life. She drops the lipstick into her handbag and shuts it. She squares her shoulders and turns to find Rory standing behind her, watching.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this. I’m sorry that we’ve only just found one another. We have such potential.” Rory tries to smile, but the effort is more than she can manage and her mouth twists into a crooked line, the tremour of her bottom lip noticeable.

Caroline holds out her hand, reaching out one last time. “I’m sorry too.” Her eyes are watering but she manages to hold in her tears. She lifts Rory’s hand to her lips, kissing the palm of it softly, for what feels like eternity. She slowly lowers their hands and lets Rory go. 

Caroline walks past Rory, almost stopping as they stand shoulder to shoulder in the small space, before turning and walking quietly through the narrowboat to the door at the stern. Rory’s eyes follow her, barely able to see through the tears as Caroline unlocks the door and walks up the steps. She carefully closes the door behind her, leaving Rory alone on the _Madeleine_.

The _Madeleine_ has never felt so empty. Rory wonders if Caroline has taken the air with her, leaving Rory in a vacuum. She can hear Caroline’s heels on the towpath outside as Caroline walks past the boat. Her heart starts racing when she hears Caroline stop for a moment, the pause loaded with potential, before the footsteps continue carrying her blonde lover from her life. It is at this point that Rory disintegrates, falling to the floor in sobs wrenched from her soul.

Caroline steps more briskly as she increases her distance from Rory, as if the enchantment of the woman wears off beyond a certain proximity. By the time she reaches her car her feet are pounding the pavement, her strides as long and as fast as her tight skirt and heels will allow. She fumbles for her keys and pulls herself into the Jeep, hauling the door shut behind her. Hands shaking, she drops her bag onto the seat beside her before slowly crumpling onto the steering wheel.

Of all the outcomes she had envisaged last night, this was not amongst them. A brief stop for a glass of wine before driving home was all she had wanted. Instead it had developed into a night of escape and she had found someone who had reached into her soul. For a brief moment she had felt a slice of heaven in her heart, and she’d let it go. She couldn’t find a way to hold it and it had slipped out of reach, the lightness of it illuminated by its absence.

Caroline sits up, her back straight as she grips the steering wheel hard enough for her knuckles to whiten. She forces herself to breathe out slowly, trying to release the tension in her body as she does. Reminding herself of all her blessings, especially young Flora, she feels her newly expanded heart, grateful for Rory’s capacity for...love. The sharp clarity of the thought makes her gasp. They couldn’t find a way to make it work, but a connection of souls is made once and forever. She doesn’t have to understand it to acknowledge what it is. She takes a few more deep breaths. Looking out at the bright sunshine, she ferrets around in her bag for her aviators and puts them on, finally feeling ready to face the day. She peers out the windscreen for several minutes, looking into a sky that bleeds blue to the horizon, a sense of joy becoming evident at the edge of her aura. Gratitude seeps into her soul and she heads for home.

 

 

* * *

 

_Doctor,_  
if only you could see  
how heaven pulls earth into its arms  
and how infinitely the heart expands  
to claim this world, blue vapor without end _._

From _“Monet Refuses the Operation”_ by Lisel Mueller 1996

 

Poetry Foundation - full text of the poem  
_<https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52577/monet-refuses-the-operation-56d231289e6db>_

 

NYU LitMed Database - Annotation about the poem by Katherine Belling, 2013  
_<http://medhum.med.nyu.edu/view/1170>_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my fabulous beta reader. Your patience is admirable and your advice always sound. Thank you.
> 
> Thank you to VivianDarkBloom for the idea of Caroline’s two other brief entanglements, the postmistress and the rugby player.
> 
>  
> 
> This version of Caroline was intended to be less damaged by Celia, and to include some emotional intelligence and boldness from Catherine from Happy Valley. Hawk-eyed fans will spot the many references to Happy Valley, from Catherine’s call sign to particular lines and phrases. It has been a joy to play with this version of Caroline, whilst hopefully not straying too far from her intrinsic self.
> 
> Rory is the first major character that I’ve created, and the first main character of colour. I hope that I’ve done her justice. I’ve tried to give her some individuality and to avoid some of the stereotypes. I’m delighted to learn how to do this better, so suggestions are welcome, but I understand that it isn’t your job to teach me. Please forgive me if I’ve made mistakes.
> 
> The poem by Mueller was a gift from the madness that is Tumblr. It significantly influenced the direction of the work, and helped me to take Caroline on a journey from physical to sexual, then to emotional and hopefully to something close to spiritual. Well, that was the intention. The other intention was for me to practice writing intimacy and sex scenes, and what better way to do that than to send a character on a one night stand.
> 
> Final note. This was always intended to be a one night stand in which Caroline had an intense experience with another woman. The impact of the night was to allow Caroline to deal with some of her grief and to realise that she could still love Kate while understanding there was space in her heart to love someone else too. What I didn’t anticipate was that I would really like Rory, and that they had such potential together. 
> 
> So I’m planning an epilogue. Or something.


End file.
